


Navigation (Not of a Ship)

by scratches



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, F/M, House Aviz, House Sforza, brock has scars, but not of a ship, inappropriate innuendo, navigation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:14:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24518236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scratches/pseuds/scratches
Summary: Two bastard children without issue attend the wedding of the century
Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Brock Rumlow
Comments: 23
Kudos: 72





	Navigation (Not of a Ship)

**Author's Note:**

> this is a WIP. I try not to post those for Brock/Darcy but HERE WE GO

It was the wedding of the century and all Lady Darcy could focus on was that it was so damn cold. Her Royal Highness Jane of Asgard, the wife to Heir Apparent, Prince of Asgard, Thor Odinson, was standing in front of her fidgeting, no doubt waiting for the wedding ceremony and coronation to be finished so she could return to her studies. Lady Darcy couldn't chide her as the Head Lady-in-Waiting because she too was fidgeting under her modest dress. No doubt Bona Sforza was beautiful, kneeling before the throne next to Sigismund, The Old. Honestly, they should be happy they were no longer traveling by horse, almost three months by carriage with no one but Jane, Thor, and his band of warriors for company. Somehow, they had acquired a woman introduced as Valkyrie somewhere outside of Denmark, but that was a story for another day.

Grasping the back of the princess's gown, Lady Darcy tugged it gently to bring Jane back to earth. It would be uncouth of them to be singled out for not being able to stand still in honor of the two wedded highnesses, bringing two powerful families together who were _not_ the Hapsburgs. Nasty family, them. Not that Lady Darcy could talk, she's the dirty secret that Spain and Portugal deny the existence of. Isabella of Aragon had been pregnant when the late Alfonso, Prince of Portugal had fallen from his horse and perished. Spain had sent her away the moment Asgard called for an obedient handmaiden for their new princess.

Thankfully, HRH Jane didn't mind that she wasn't an obedient vassal like they requested. Lady Darcy had met the woman, (the outrage!) a commoner, her father was the head of the science division at the royal palace. How scandalous. Lady Darcy met HRH Jane with strict guidelines for how a lady was to act outside of her studies, Lady Darcy had honed the farce for her whole life, she had plenty of work arounds, but not during a dual wedding and coronation. 

They were not the only fidgeters. There was a not terribly tall, but assuredly taller than herself, man across the great hall also adjusting himself minutely. If medals and suit were to be believed, he and his fellow bystanders were military men. It was unexpected to see them here because the king and queen were trying to stop military campaigns on this side of Europe. If rumor were true, maybe they were here to discuss the Ottoman Empire issue, Darcy heard murmurings the last time she visited the Papal State.

Then again, Jane had been invited for her scientific mind, not her title. Darcy had been invited by invitation also, maybe the Sforza had a sense of humor but inside the parchment envelope held another envelope with her actual issue. If she had been in Spain, her governess would have burned the whole thing and ignored the summons. 

An even taller man behind the decorated gentleman leaned over and whispered in his ear. The gall! Maybe he wasn't born of blood, not all commanding military men were, but everyone knew you weren't to make noise. Whatever the man had whispered had the other gentleman looking up to meet her eyes from across the room. Lady Darcy couldn't tell the color from far away, but he had monstrous scars across his angular face, and if his skin's coloring was any indication, he was of Italian descent, like the Sforza herself. Holding his gaze, Darcy studied his jaw line, the way his brows were shaped, and even the straight line of his shoulders. 

Definitely military, and definitely born of issue if the way he acknowledged her was anything to go by. Darcy tilted her head back before she moved her gaze back to the coronation. Thankfully the Archbishop was chanting the final lines of the coronation, and there was something about the way Her Royal Highness Bona Sforza's shoulders were set. She moved her eyes back to the man and took his stance in.

But Bona Sforza didn't have family in the military…supposedly.

After the coronation, Darcy stood close to Jane, it was one of her first forays into the Noble elite of Europe. No one commented on the lack of The House of Hapsburg, and Darcy had to remind Jane not to bring it up. They both held small drinking glasses in their hands as Prince Thor introduced them to many of the people walking by. It seemed that the crowd tonight was of like military, scientific, and political mind.

~~

Jane had insisted that she would turn in for the night with the Prince and did not need her for company and to return at high-noon. Darcy wasn't surprised, it was the first time in weeks that they were able to sleep on a stuffed down mattress. Thankfully, the Queen had insisted that the wedding party and ceremony would last for many days and nights. She had arranged for revelry at all hours. Darcy stood at a balcony off of the third floor sleeping chambers and watched the fete continue below her. 

"You've been a hard woman to find tonight, Lady Darcy." She startled as a man spoke behind her, her hands grasped at the pendant around her neck before she turned. The man she had kept watch on during the first night of revelry stood before her. He was broad shouldered, his hair shorn close to his ears with longer locks on top, a bare face beneath thick scarring, and deep set, hazel eyes. They shined with mischievousness. 

Unclasping her hand, Darcy bowed her head. "It was not my intention." She held out her hand in expectation of an introduction.

He bowed his body forward slightly and took her hand. His lips, unscarred, pressed lightly against her and he looked up at her. Darcy was still holding her pendant as he introduced himself, "Brock Rumlow of Genoa." He pressed his lips to her again before dropping her hand and straightening, his red and white uniform adjusted with his body.

She stood and stared at him before lifting an eyebrow. He had gone out of his way to find her and now he was silent. "May I be of help, Brock Rumlow of Genoa? Perhaps you need directions back to the festivities?"

The man adjusted his sleeves and caught her eye. "You do not have a chaperone tonight?"

"I am the chaperone," Darcy said plainly, "My charge has retired to her chambers with her husband, Heir Apparent, Prince Thor of Asgard."

He nodded. "You're a little young to be a chaperone."

"They say I also have too sharp of a tongue to be a chaperone, but I still have my place near the throne of Asgard." It wasn't a biting remark, just a matter of fact statement.

"My apologies," he stood a little straighter, "I do not know the ins and outs of…" his voice trailed off.

Finally, she dropped her pendant, and took a step towards the man. "Asgard does not do things like many of the thrones in Europe, fortunately."

"I never did well near the throne," he admitted.

Reaching out, Lady Darcy wiped at invisible dust from his lapel. "What exactly are you doing here, on the balcony, with me, Brock Rumlow of Genoa."

"Her Royal Highness, Bona Sforza requested that I find you."

Darcy looked up at him through her Asgardian hair coiffs. Not wearing a head-dressing was another reason Lady Darcy was glad to be in service in Asgard. "And now that you have found me?" 

His scarred face pulled and he answered, "She didn't have any other order, just to find you, not to bring you to her."

Leaning into him, Darcy stood on her toes and asked, "Who are you really, Brock Rumlow of Genoa?" He stood silently again and stared down into her face, "Or are you leaving something out? Brock Rumlow of House Sforza?" He took a deep breath and Darcy sat back on her heels. "I bet people don't look past your disfiguration so they do not realize who you are."

"Many people do not look at me at all, Lady Darcy of House Aviz." He let a small smile grace his features and Darcy was surprised that it smoothed some of the scars around his eyes in the low candle light.

"Queen Sforza plays Europe like a chessboard," she replied before adding, "and I will look at you enough for the rest of the guests while we are here to celebrate her."

"She may be young, but the Queen has been playing this particular game of chess for many years already." Brock Rumlow stepped closer to her. "She does not rebuke the scientific minds and understands that even a scarred bastard son, or a forgotten daughter without issue can still make waves." They stared for a while longer, the crickets chirped and the wind rustled the wisteria around them. "I mean to sound presumptuous, but do you think Bona Sforza is playing matchmaker?"

Laughing, Darcy stated, "She will have to get in line, Natasha, Grand Tsarina of Moscow, has already laid claim to finding a consort for me."

"A Tsarina?" His eyes went wide. 

"Asgard has no treaties. We are isolationists and will side with no other monarchy." 

"You speak as though you are one of them, not a Spaniard, not Portuguese. Have you discarded your homelands?" He raised his own brow.

"They discarded me." Lady Darcy took a step back to the iron of the balcony and leaned leisurely, "In Asgard I have met many people and my mind has been opened to more than what the Pope thinks I should be learning."

"But, Moscow?"

Playfully, she wagged a finger, "You don't think there were people from Moscow here tonight?" The man looked startled, "The Grand Princess sent me to this balcony, insisted really, once I locked my charge away with her husband." Lady Darcy smirked. “Natasha is known for being covert.”

"The Queen and a Tsarina playing matchmaker, together though?" He shook his head, "Unsurprising, she always marched to her own beat."

"Are you a maritime man, Brock Rumlow of House Sforza?" Darcy could almost smell the salt water on his skin and in his hair from the head shake.

He inclined his head with a nod. "I am, my Lady."

She bit her lip, "You have traveled extensively, I presume?" He inclined his head again. "Would you be willing to teach a woman about navigation?"

He sputtered, "Navigation?"

She didn't try to look coy. "Navigation, yes."

"Here, in Poland?" He looked suspicious, there wasn't a fleet in Poland.

Lady Darcy took two steps and held his lapels, "Navigation, Commander, but not of a ship." 

His hands gently rested on her generous hips and he looked into her eyes, "Are you asking me to bring you to my bedchamber?"

"If Queen Sforza and Princess Natasha have set us on this course, we should see where it takes us. Vasco De Gama can't be the only one with a sense of direction." Another step was taken. "Would you like a map?"

Brock Rumlow pulled her close and a large hand traveled south, only drunk court people had ever dared to hold her by her bottom. "I do not need a map for the navigation lesson you are asking me for."


End file.
